


Oblivious Dumbass Bucky Barnes

by IkkeDu



Category: Captain America - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Falling In Love, Heartbreak, Internalized Homophobia, Multi, Mutual Pining, Poor Life Choices, Slow Burn, Vietnamese Bucky, coming to terms with sexuality, forgive me maria, i just realized i have team cap as the main characters in this lmao, i know its not perfectly written but i'm just tryna finish it, i said i'd do this LAST YEAR, team cap ftw, then i will go back and spruce it up
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-22
Updated: 2018-10-22
Packaged: 2019-08-05 16:26:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,420
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16371065
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IkkeDu/pseuds/IkkeDu
Summary: Bucky Barnes doesn't know what he feels for his new university friend, Steve Rogers. But it is not a crush!! He is his friend. A really nice friend that always goes out of his way to make Bucky feel welcome.But what is that feeling in his chest whenever Steve is near him??





	Oblivious Dumbass Bucky Barnes

**Author's Note:**

  * For [theheartofmaria](https://archiveofourown.org/users/theheartofmaria/gifts).



> sorry if this is a not what you wanted, maria *thumbs up emoji*  
> "bucko is a dumbo" - is the tagline for this fic tbh :))

**FRESHMAN YEAR, FALL 2008: FIGHT ME, PROFESSOR STANK**

 

Three weeks into university and nothing of notoriety had happened to Bucky. Yet.

 

Bucky wasn’t invited to any wild keggers for freshers. His roommate, Scott Lang, was the type to stare into his custom made Linux desktop for hours, if not whole days, on end. Bucky floated from class to class to cafeteria to lecture to lab back to the cafeteria to the library and to bed daily. He made one friend, purely by accident, when he wandered into the wrong study room in the library.

 

“Major?” the short redhead asked.

 

“Psych,” he sighed, “You?”

 

“Same.” she said.

 

“Aren’t you in Zola’s class?”

 

“Yeah. You wanna compare notes? I'm Natasha, by the way.”

 

“Bucky,”

 

She tapped the seat next to hers and that’s where they stayed until the library closed at 2AM nearly every night.

 

The only thing that could be considered exciting was Tony Stark’s so-called Ethics lecture. Every so often, a tall nameless blond boy would refute everything Stark claimed to be morally superior. Bucky zoned out for the most part but every time the blond would raise his hand, Bucky would perk up and start paying attention.

 

This week was a doozy of a week: Stark had his ass handed to him.

 

“Listen, _Stark_ ,” the tall blond in the front of the room began, standing up at full stature, “I appreciate hearing about your worldview and your _matured_ outlook on life, but I gotta tell ya: If one country bombs another for no good reason except Imperialism, then that bombed country has every damn right to defend itself when the Imperial boots and utes hit their soil.”

 

The class let out soft _oooh’s_ in response to the blond’s rebuttal. Stark blanched and tried to say something else, but the blond cut him off.

 

“We all read your book,” he gestured towards his fellow students, “So, don’t try and retell us your desert sob story when we already had to pay two-hundred-and-fifty bucks for it.  Your father makes weapons of mass destruction and profits _billions_ from the sales of said weapons to various militaries around the world. Your father is a war monger: he knows what he is doing and in doing so has resulted in the deaths of millions of _innocent lives._ Now, I know you’re not your father, and you think you’re not like him, but the fact-of-the-matter is, Stark Industries still manufactures and sells weapon that kill countless lives daily-- _”_

 

Professor Stark cut the student off before he could continue, face red with anger, “What is your point? What are you trying to get at, _Rogers_ ! _”_

 

“My point is, Professor Stark, is that you are the most likely candidate to take over your father’s warmongering company, but you stand here and now as an Ethics Professor in a Liberal Arts College telling us that killing innocent civilians is okay because a few radicals tried and failed to bomb us.”

 

At his closing remarks, the class lost their collective shit as Rogers grabbed his bag and _sauntered_ out of the lecture hall. With his ego wounded beyond recognition, Stark cancelled the class for the rest of the semester.

 

Not that Bucky minded the cancelled class, and the free time it allotted him, now he couldn’t stare at the blond who stood up for others named Rogers.

 

Over the course of the week, the campus was buzzing with the news of Stark walking out of his own class, cancelling it and leaving the faculty completely. It even made national news. Bucky kept eavesdropping on all the conversations he could, but no one uttered Rogers’ full name so Bucky could look him up on Facebook.

 

When he brought up the blond to his study buddy, Natasha, she paused for a few seconds before replying, “His name is Steve Rogers. He’s in my swim class.”

 

“Oh,” that was easy, “Does he give the swim instructor shit, too.” He joked.

 

“Nah, Steve is really nice. Can't swim for shit, though. He was on my relay team last week and he fucked up our time. We were in first, but then he hit the pool and we finished last.”

 

“Ooh, yikes!” Bucky didn't know what to say to that. Natasha was competitive  and a sore loser no matter the stakes. “Did you attempt to drown him after his failure to obtain your glory?”

 

She looked over at him from her Business Math textbook, “The thought crossed my mind.” She said coolly, going back to her studies.

 

Bucky was ashamed to admit that he pulled out his laptop and looked Steve Rogers up on Facebook that very moment. He didn't know why he felt ashamed for it, he just did. He saw Steve in his profile picture with a beautiful, busty brunette.

 

 _Oh, he has a girlfriend,_ Bucky thought sadly. He let the cursor hover on the _Add Friend_ button as he stared at the photo for a moment. Would it be weird if he did randomly send a friend request to him? Bucky had never really introduced himself to Steve, but they did have one friend in common, (Natasha), so it wouldn't be completely out of the blue...right? He didn't hit _Add Friend_ before closing his laptop and forcing the odd feeling growing in his chest down.

 

If Natasha noticed anything, she didn't say.

 

But two weeks later he was sitting in Steve’s dorm room with Steve, his roommate Sam, Natasha, a girl named Wanda, and the busty brunette from Steve’s profile picture, _Peggy_. They were hanging out, laughing, making fun of professors, and comparing class notes. Bucky couldn’t take his eyes of Steve that night. Steve was the life of their little Tuesday night shindig and Bucky couldn't stop smiling at everything Steve did or said.

 

**FRESHMAN YEAR, WINTER 2008: PHO KING JEALOUS**

 

Finals were complete. The first semester of college was over and all Bucky wanted to do was eat his pho in morose silence. He had a sick feeling that he bombed his Chem final. The TA Jean assured him he wouldn't. She made it sound like she was going to change his grade if something did happen.

 

Damn, he wished she would.

 

Bucky went back to stirring his pho around, it was too hot to shove in his mouth and he was becoming agitated due to his hunger when a voice called out behind him.

 

“Hey, Bucky!”

 

Bucky swiveled in his seat to see the approaching figure of Steve smiling at him. Bucky looked back around to see if there was anyone else he might be talking to, but he was the only one in the eatery.

 

He raised his hand and waved at Steve pathetically.

 

He didn't know how he fell onto Steve Rogers’ radar and _stuck_ there, but he wasn't going to complain, about making a new friend.

 

“Hey, Steve, what brings you here?” Most of the student body had vacated the campus as soon as the last exam was handed in.

 

“I didn't wanna travel to NYC just to be stuck in the blizzard all break. Mind if I sit with ya?” He gestured to the empty seat across from Bucky.

 

Bucky nodded and Steve sat down, placing his coffee cup on the table. “Is that pho?” Steve pronounced pho as _po_ and not _fuh._

 

Bucky let out a soft laugh. “Yeah, but, uh,” he really didn't want to correct Steve but Steve was the type who liked to be corrected when he was wrong. “But it's pronounced _fuh.”_

 

“Oh damn, I'm sorry. Thanks for telling me.”

 

“Ah, no worries. I had to before you ever met my mother; she would yell at you in Vietnamese and then hit you with her slippers.” Bucky chuckled softly.

 

“Oh, so I'm meeting your mother sometime soon?” Steve smirked.

 

“I dunno, she isn't the fondest of white boys.”

 

Steve let out a deep laugh. “Bummer, I really want her to hit me with her shoes.”

 

“Oh?” Bucky played along with Steve, “I can hit you with my shoe if you'd like,” Bucky quickly glanced down at his shoes. Shit. They were Docs. He raised his foot above the table and showed Steve. “You still want this?”

 

Steve didn't even blanch, he just looked Bucky in the eye and said, “Nothing could scare me away.”

 

Bucky let out a laugh, not picking up Steve's hints. He put his foot back down and started on his cooling pho.

 

Steve tried not to watch as Bucky shoveled the food into his mouth and began to take awkward sips of his coffee, looking around the empty student union.

 

“So, you wanna see a movie this week?” Steve finally asked when Bucky was done with his pho.

 

“Oh sure. What do you wanna see?” He asked.

 

“ _Kung Fu Panda_ is playing!” Steve said a little too quickly.

 

Bucky raised his eyebrows at Steve, “Isn’t that a cartoon?”

 

“Yeah! Cartoons are great and we are young college students: we need a good laugh.”

 

“Alright, I’ll see it with you.”

 

“You sure?” Steve leaned forward over the table, excited.

 

“Duh!” Bucky smiled widely at Steve.

 

Three days later, the boys had finally managed to see the movie. Steve bought Bucky an Icee and Bucky bought him Junior Mints. They shared the popcorn.

 

When they were walking out of the theater, Bucky offhandedly said it was like he was on a real date.

 

Steve stilled for a spell before asking if Bucky had ever been on a date.

 

“No. My mom said I couldn't date until college.”

 

Steve didn't make any quip about Bucky’s lack of relationships or poke fun at his mother’s old-fashioned ways. He nodded softly and carried on walking with his hands in his pockets and eyes on the slush covered ground.

 

They were aimlessly walking the streets of the downtown area, pointing out their favorite coffee shops or where Scott upchucked on the corner after the MGMT concert fiasco. That story had Steve laughing _hard._ He didn't say much else that evening, he let Bucky do most of the talking.

 

After half an hour of wandering around, hot cocoas were calling their names. They went to Bucky’s favorite coffee shop, ordered and sat down. Steve was leaning over the table for two, about to say something, when his phone began to let out an obnoxious ringtone.

 

“Sorry, have to get this.” He said, pulling out his phone and walking away from the table.

 

Bucky watched him as he paced back and forth in the back of the coffee shop. Steve looked serious. More serious than he had when destroying Stark’s “ethics.” He didn’t know who was on the phone, but he was jealous that they took precedence over Bucky’s friendship date.

 

The barista walked over with their drinks, “Extra whip for Bucky?”

 

“Oh, that's mine,” Bucky said taking his cup from her.

 

“And extra marshmallows for Steve,” she said placing the second cup down at Steve’s empty seat.

 

He gave her his best smile, “Thank you,”

 

“No problem.” She smiled sweetly at him before walking back behind the counter.

 

He went to take a sip when he saw the writing on the paper cup:

_Gamora  567-1209_

 

The number on the cup was the most romantic gesture Bucky had ever received. It was just the right amount of “I dig you, but no pressure to call me or anything.” He took a swig and continued to stare at Steve not towards Gamora. The cocoa was making him feel warmer than it should.  Or maybe it was the misplaced jealousy.

 

Steve finally shut his phone and walked back to the table. He apologized to Bucky and took a swig of his cocoa. “Wow, you’re right this is good.”

 

They sat there for a few seconds before Steve told him who was on the phone, like it was another apology. “Peggy. You remember Peggy, right?”

 

Oh, yeah, Bucky remembered her. She was latched on to Steve like a life alert bracelet “Yeah, the busty brunette,” he said without thinking.

 

Steve choked on his cocoa, “Is that what you call her?” Steve asked, scandalized.

 

Bucky shrugged; it was the truth. “Yeah, she’s really pretty.” He said as nonchalantly as possible, taking a bitter sip of his sweet cocoa.

 

Peggy was pretty, but Bucky wasn’t into her type of soft beauty. He absentmindedly looked over at the barista, Gamora. She was pretty in an edgy goth way. She had long green and pink hair, and an assortment of tattoos down her arms. She must of thought he was interesting enough to give him her number.

 

Or desperate.

 

She must of felt his eyes on her, because at that moment she turned away from cleaning the espresso machine and winked at him.

 

“She’s pretty, too” Steve said, voice laced with something Bucky couldn't place.

 

Bucky looked back at Steve, he was staring Gamora down over his paper cup. Bucky hadn’t seen Steve look so heated since he tore down Stark.

 

“Maybe we should head back to campus,” Bucky softly suggested.

 

“I can’t. I said I’d pick Peggy up from her job in a bit.” Steve chugged the last of his cocoa and stood up. “Want me to walk you to the bus stop?” he offered.

 

“No,” Bucky said flatly, “I’m good. Thanks, though.”

 

Bucky _desperately_ wanted to ask the nature of Steve’s relationship with Peggy, but he couldn’t find the courage to do so. And even if he did, Steve might ask what is was to Bucky.

 

Steve gently placed his hand on Bucky’s shoulder, “Well, I’ll see you soon, ‘kay?”

 

Bucky only nodded and watched as Steve left the cafe, giving Gamora a dirty look on his way out. Which she equally matched.

 

He sat there, finishing his drink and staring at Gamora’s number. He was pretty sure this constituted as flirting on her end and maybe he should try and flirt back. But damn, was he an idiot.

 

 _Maybe if I just walk up to her and ask her out she might say yes,_ he thought to himself.

 

He waited for his nerves to settle down before he got up to ask her. He had never asked anyone out before and damn, was he nervous. But before he could even stand up, she was sitting across from him. “I’m off, wanna hang out?” she smiled

 

“Yeah, yeah, I do.”

 

“Cool. It started to snow again, so I thought we could just go back to my shitty apartment and, like, I dunno, listen to music. What kind of music to do you like?”

 

She was forward, he’d give her that. No one had given him this much direct flirtatious attention before and he forgot what kind of music he liked. “Umm, the good kind?”

 

She laughed. It was a sweet laugh. “Okay, well, let’s go before they ask me to work longer.”

 

**FRESHMAN YEAR, WINTER 2008: UNCERTAINTY**

 

Bucky sent Steve a single text later that night.

_I had fun with you. Kungfu Panda was great!!!_

 

Steve didn't respond.

 

It had been two, long, miserable weeks without a word from his newfound friend. Bucky was trying hard to not let it bother him; however, he was _extremely_ bothered. He thought about texting him about his recent romantic developments with Gamora the Barista but he remembered the way Steve glared her down like he had something against her.

 

He felt like he lost something that day when Steve walked out of the cafe. However, he gained something when Gamora sat down across from him and took him home.

 

Gamora was great: She was funny, stubborn, an activist, a great kisser and had a pet raccoon.

 

She warned him of her odd pet on their walk from the cafe to her apartment.

 

“He was abused and injured and my sister, Nebula, gave him to me.” Like that explained everything. "She works for an animal rescue center. She wants to be a wildlife vet."

 

Bucky took everything happening to him in stride. He had never gone home with a girl. And definitely not with a girl that had a raccoon.

 

“How do you get away with him in an apartment?” Bucky was flabbergasted.

 

Gamora laughed his question off and picked up her pet and pressed him into her chest, “His name is Rocket and he is my baby trash panda!”

 

The fat raccoon let out a distressed whine.

 

“I don’t think he likes being called a trash panda,” Bucky quipped. “Can I hold him?”

 

Gamora looked down at Rocket, “You gonna behave for him? Don’t disappoint mommy!”

 

She handed Rocket over to Bucky. Holding a fat raccoon was nothing like Bucky expected. Honestly, he had no expectations of holding a raccoon in his life. It was like holding a large cat. Rocket liked Bucky, or so Gamora claimed, “He didn’t bite you! That’s a first for him!”

 

After meeting Gamora and her raccoon, Bucky was going over there almost everyday to listen to music, play video games, make out, and make dinner with her. It was his first romantic relationship and he was riding on a wave of exhilaration and dread.

 

The exhilaration from the newness of it all: Being in a romantic relationship was nothing like he expected. She was very patient and kind and forthcoming with her feelings and expectations. There was no ‘beating around the bush’ with her. If she thought something was bothering Bucky or something was bothering her, she’d put it out there for them to talk through. It was a change from what Bucky was accustomed to: absolute repression and silence, (thanks mom and dad)!

 

She talked him through kissing and proper make out etiquette (which was a thing he never knew about), when he admitted dumbly that he had never kissed anyone before. He expected her to laugh at him, but she wasn't like that.

 

“I don’t want you to feel like I’m using you,” he whispered into her hair one night.

 

“How would you be using me? You want to be with me, right?”

 

He sighed softly, “Yes,” he nuzzled his face into her neck.

 

They spent every night they could together nestled in her bed, doing what young adults did. Whenever the mention of sex came up, Bucky felt _odd._ He didn’t understand why. He was a sexually frustrated 19-year-old! He should of been ready to lose his virginity at any given point, but something was holding him back.

 

Near the end of their third week together, the snow was falling heavily again, Bucky decided to not walk back to his dorm. To keep themselves warm, they decided to make out (like usual), but on this night, things became _heated_ and they went all the way.

 

Post-cloital bliss was not what he expected. Firstly, it was not bliss. It was an unnerving feeling in his gut that screamed _this is wrong._ The second feeling he had was _did I use Gamora?_

 

Gamora was staring at him from her side of the bed with an unreadable expression. He felt like he used her and disappointed her all in a twenty minute span of time.

 

“I’m sorry,” he cried. He didn’t realize he was crying until she went to wipe the tears off his cheeks.

 

“What do you have to be sorry for, Bucky? Are you feeling alright?” She reached over him towards the night stand and turned the lamp on.

 

With the light on, it was like he could see his shame. He started to uncontrollably sob into her chest.

 

He knew she was speaking to him, but he couldn't process what she was saying. Something was wrong with him and he shouldn’t have felt the way he did after having sex with such an amazingly kind and beautiful woman like Gamora.

 

He cried himself to sleep in her bed that night.

 

When he finally woke up the next morning, he dressed and went to the living room, hoping to sneak out like the cowardly piece of shit that he was, but she was there, sitting in her big comfy chair with Rocket.

 

“There is hot cocoa on the table,” she pointed to the sofa, “Have a seat, dear, I think we did to figure some stuff out.”

 

**WINTER 2009:** **IT'S WHAT YOU MAKE IT**

 

Gamora being Gamora, she asked Bucky what was wrong in the most soothing, yet straightforward way possible.

 

Bucky being Bucky, looked down into his cocoa, shrugged, and said it was just jitters in a small voice.

 

He didn't have the chutzpah to look anywhere but his mug, but he could feel her soft brown eyes boring into him from the other chair.

 

He couldn't pinpoint exactly  _why_ losing his virginity filled him with a severe sense of dread and anxiety. But it did. He was shaking slightly, noticeable, nonetheless, the longer he held the mug in his hands: the contents of the snowman mug were teetering on spilling out with every shake of his nervous hands. None of this made sense to him; he should be happy or ecstatic that he was no longer a virgin! He should be kissing her again and again like a normal 19-year-old, horny college freshman! Not sitting on her sofa shaking like he had hypothermia and swallowing down an anxiety attack.

 

The more he tried to understand, the worse the shaking became. He set his mug on the coffee table, but never looked away from it. Gamora was still watching him with worry while he tried not to panic and quell the restricting sensation in his chest and throat down.

 

They stayed that way for what seemed like hours; by the time Gamora spoke again, his cocoa was cold.

 

Her voice faltered when she finally asked, “Do, do you like women, James?”

 

That question made his head snap up, “Of course I do! Who else could I like?” He all but yelled back.

 

She set her empty mug down and leaned over the coffee table, “It's possible to like men.” She said softly. “There is nothing wrong with liking men as a man.”

 

He scoffed and didn't say anything. There was  _no fucking way_ he could be gay. He liked girls. He knew it. He liked Gamora. He just had a bad first time. That was all this was: he should have waited to be in a better emotional and rational place before having sex.

 

“Maybe,” he started slowly, trying to throw the conversation away from the impossible probability that he could be gay, “Maybe I wasn't, um, ready…. Y'know?”

 

“Yeah,” she didn’t sound convinced. “We can work it out, James.”

 

They sat there for a little longer before Bucky suggested he should leave.

 

“It's snowing hard out there,” Gamora told him, “They cancelled bus services and I can't let you walk out there: campus is too far. Please stay.”

 

“I think it would be too awkward if I stay.” He said, standing up.

 

“How?” She simply asked.

 

He couldn't think of a reasonable excuse, so he sat back down. Rocket crawled onto the couch at that moment and sat his plump ass down on Bucky. There was no escape now.

 

***

 

He sent another friendly text to Steve; he wanted to tell him what was going wrong in his life but didn't want to just jump on the sensitive subject. So he sent a friendly missive:  _I miss you. Been thinking about kungfupanda all break lol._

 

Steve didn't respond to that either.

 

The winter break passed by quicker than Bucky had thought. Gamora was still her gloriously beautiful, patient and kind self, while Bucky was falling apart more and more by the day. He felt guilty for emotionally pulling away from her more and more, day by day. He was ashamed to admit that he was thankful when the spring semester began.

 

Two days into the semester, Bucky and Scott were lounging around their room, pretending to study when a hard knock on the door disrupted their calm. Both boys looked at each other with looks of utter disbelief: No one knocked on their door. Not even when the whole floor was drunk did anyone bother to knock on 3107.

 

“You expecting anybody?” Scott asked, taking off his headphones, “Or was that my imagination again?”

 

Bucky shook his head, but didn't move from his bed. The knock came again.

 

“Def not my imagination, buddy,” Scott said, getting off his bed and walking to the door.

 

Bucky watched as he opened it and saw Steve Rogers standing there.

 

“Johnny?” Scott asked.

 

“Steve,” he corrected, “Is Bucky here?”

 

“Sorry, yeah, come in.”

 

Scott closed the door as Steve casually walked through their small dorm, “Sorry I disappeared after our movie date,” Steve said, sitting on Bucky's bed and taking off his jacket, “I had to visit Peggy's parents in Connecticut.”

 

There was that name again:  _Peggy._ Why did it send a flush of rage down Bucky’s spine?

 

Steve looked around the cramped dorm room, noticing all the bad band posters Scott and Bucky  _ironically_ tacked on their walls. “Y'all really listen to that stuff?” He asked, eyes lingering on the Hannah Montana poster Bucky stole from his little sister.

 

“We sure do,” Scott shamelessly replied, sitting down on his bed. “Me and Buck-o here  _love_ Miley backslash Hannah with all our self-loathing hearts!”

 

Bucky didn’t say anything to keep the joke going; he was distracted by Steve’s presence. He knew Scott was a serious jester, and usually Bucky would play along with him, but Steve was sitting on his bed in sweaty gym clothes and apologizing.

 

“So, uh, what brings you here?” Bucky finally asked, he tucked his legs so his feet wouldn’t brush up against Steve’s thighs on the twin-sized bed.

 

“Just wanted to see how your break was.” He casually remarked, “And yours.” Turning to Scott, “How was yours?”

 

Bucky looked over to his roommate, unable to formulate an answer just yet.

 

Scott took the lead, “Well, my parents and I didn't fight this year. Maybe it had something to do with how I didn't go home at all, but I dunno. And I hope I never will.”

 

“Bad parents?” Steve asked.

 

“They put the  _wurst_ in bratwurst.”

 

“And you put the  _brat_ in  it.” Bucky joked back, regaining his senses.

 

“Haha, coy boy. Tell us how your break was and where you were!? You were barely here and I know your momma lives too far to go home to!”

 

Bucky didn't know what to say: He could tell them about Gamora but then he might let slip the sex and he knew if he mentioned that, he would surely tell them about his ugly post-cloital breakdown.

 

“Well?” Scott prompted when Bucky hadn't answered after a minute.

 

He was thinking of excuses for too long: it was looking suspicious on his part. Why was he avoiding telling these guys the truth? They wouldn't judge him for it. They wouldn't shame him. Would they? A part of him was worried about Steve's reaction. But why? Why was he afraid of the way Steve could potentially react?

 

Their stares were becoming too much: So he let slip some of the truth.

 

Bucky looked at Scott, “I started dating the barista from the Galaxy Cafe and she has a pet raccoon!”

 

 _“Niiiice_ ,” Scott jumped off his bed to give Bucky an unreturned high-five. “She's wonderful. Always gives me extra whip!”

 

Bucky nodded in agreement and looked over at Steve: There was something dark and unreadable on his face, Bucky tried not to think too hard about it.

 

“So, what happened? Make out a lot? Snuggle on those cold, snowy nights? Do the Do?” Scott playfully questioned him.

 

“Yeah, yeah. I had sex  _and_ a breakdown.” Bucky said flatly, staring at Steve's hands clenched around his flannel sheets.

 

Scott’s face became serious, “At the same time?”

 

“Don't,” Steve said sharply, slapping Scott's arm.

 

“Right after,” Bucky whispered. “I kinda cried, uh, myself to sleep on her.”

 

He looked up at Steve: the dark look was replaced with a soft one. “What do you think the breakdown was about?” he asked kindly.

 

“Uhh, I dunno. I think from, well, it’s stupid, but, from not being emotionally ready.” He looked up at between both the boys, hoping they would understand, “Like I told you in December, I had never been on a date before. Never kissed anyone, never even thought about it, honestly. So, I just wasn't prepared for the complex feelings of it all.”

 

Bucky was waiting for Scott to say something witty, instead he was met with silence and an arm around his shoulder. Steve looked around the room again, lost in thought.

 

Finally, Steve looked back at Bucky, “What did Gamora say?”

 

Bucky shrugged. He could have told them about their conversation, but he didn't want them to know what the first and only woman he slept with immediately asked if he could be gay. “Sat around with her raccoon, tried sex again, didn't cry directly after--more like in the shower after she fell asleep.” He let out a forced laugh. “What is wrong with me?”

 

The tears started flowing before he could stifle it. Scott's arms squeezed him tighter and Steve placed his hands on Bucky's knees.

 

His life was never supposed to be this fucked up.

  
  
  


**FRESHMAN YEAR: SPRING 2009: THIS IS FINE**

 

The semester was in full swing: midterms were looming upon Bucky and his new friends. He didn't have much time to hang out (more like, makeout) with Gamora; she didn't seem to mind Bucky's distance, however.

 

Natasha had booked a new study room for them to share with Steve and, sometimes Scott and Sam. About 90% of the time, it was only Bucky and Steve in the large study room, the others were ‘too busy’ or tired to walk to the library in the middle of campus.

 

Bucky didn’t mind, however. Steve was a pleasant companion who knew stuff. And apparently, was a sophomore.

 

“What?” Bucky had shouted when Steve said he took Intro to Brit Lit last year.

 

“Yeah,” Steve calmly replied, pulling out his laptop, “I thought you knew.”

 

“Uh, no, I don't know shit! I thought you were a wee-little freshman like me!”

 

Steve laughed, “If I were, I wouldn’t be able to hand over this cheat sheet for the midterm, now would I?” he handed Bucky his laptop, “Go to the folder marked “Fresh Hell, then the sub-folder, Lit and it should be in there somewhere.”

 

“Okie dokie, old man,” Bucky laughed, he took the laptop and opened it.

 

He was greeted with a rude awakening: The desktop wallpaper was a picture of Steve with Sam and Peggy on a beach huddled together. Steve was holding up Peggy with her legs around his waist. Sam was standing beside them making a heart with his arms. Bucky let out a huff and went about opening the file folders.

 

After a few seconds of silence Steve asked him what was wrong.

 

“Nothing,” he huffed out.

 

“Oh? Y’know, Buck, you can tell me what’s bothering you.”

 

“There’s nothing bothering me, Steve; I’m just exhausted.”

 

“What’s causing the exhaustion?” Steve asked softly.

 

Bucky looked over at Steve, dumbfounded, “College, duh! You know what it’s like being a freshman!”

 

Steve nodded softly, “Anything you wanna vent about?”

 

“Not really. Just the usual stress and stuff.”

 

Steve leaned over the study table and looked at Bucky softly, “Have you talked to Gamora lately?”

 

Bucky didn't understand why Gamora would be on Steve's mind, “No,” he spoke hesitantly, “I'm thinking of breakin’ up with her, actually.”

 

This piqued Steve's interest, “Oh? How come?”

 

He didn't immediately answer; he distracted himself by emailing Steve's Brit Lit cheat sheet to himself and closing the laptop, “She deserves better than my emotionally distant bullshit.”

 

Steve slid his laptop back to himself, placing his long, muscular arms reaching across the table towards Bucky, “Why do you say that? She likes you. You like her-”

 

“Yeah, I  _do_ like her, it's just, it's, odd to be with her.”

 

Steve made a face as he tilted his head to the side like a lost puppy, “Odd?”

 

“Yeah, odd” he raked his hand through his long bangs. His mother would flip if she found out how long his hair had become. “Like... she deserves someone who doesn't cry after sex. Someone who calls regularly. Someone who is  _there_ , y’know?”

 

“Yeah, I know. Have you told her this?”

 

“No!” Bucky aggressively shook his head, “No. I don’t have the balls for that. I'm just gonna break up with her tomorrow night.”

 

Steve looked distraught, like he knew something Bucky didn’t. If Steve did know something, he never voiced it. He closed the gap between their hands and placed his in Bucky’s. “Tell me how it goes, okay?”

 

The heat of Steve’s hand warmed Bucky up his arm and through his chest and down his stomach. It was like nothing he had ever felt before. It was comforting and safe. “The break-up or the Lit midterm?” Bucky joked.

 

“Both,” Neither young man made any gesture to unclasp their hands from one another.

 

“Okay,” He decided to veer the subject away from his girl troubles, “I don’t even know why I’m taking Brit Lit: the only Brit Lit I know is Harry Potter!”

 

Steve let out a hearty laugh, he pulled his hand away from Bucky’s to grasp at his chest. “What? Five weeks in and you still don’t know who the Bronte sisters are?”

 

“Oh, I know who they are; I just don’t care about their works!” he laughed back. The warm sensation was gone and Bucky was left feeling cold inside. “Their books are so dull and violently depressing. The female protags are never treated as they should and are just used by these heinous men!”

 

Steve nodded in agreement, “True, true. I, um, have a book you might like and it's Brit Lit.”

 

“What is it?”

 

Steve spike softly, softer than Bucky had ever heard him, “ _Maurice_ by E.M. Forster. It's one of my favorites.”

 

“Yeah? Never heard of it.” Bucky, unknowingly, lowered his voice to match Steve's “I'd like to read it, since it's your fave”

 

Steve gave him a blinding smile that spoke volumes: if Bucky could have read that much in mere nanoseconds, he would have saved himself years of anguish. Alas, he could not read so quickly or acutely.

 

Steve promised to bring to their next study session but the next day he sent Bucky a text saying he had to rush to New York to see his mom.

 

Bucky didn't see him for two weeks….again. The longing and sunken feeling  in his chest returned and he knew he couldn't continue filling the emptiness with a hollow relationship with Gamora.

 

***

 

Like the absolute coward he was, Bucky broke up with Gamora over the phone.

 

“I understand.” Was all she said after a long silence.

 

“I'm such a piece of shit, Gamora. You deserve better than me; someone who doesn't call to break up with you!”

 

She was silent for a few seconds before replying, “At least it wasn't a text or a 27-second phone call.”

 

“That's oddly specific, Mora.”

 

She laughed softly,“If you knew anything about pop culture, you'd know its not.”

 

“See? I am a lame dumbass!”

 

“You're not lame, James. A dumbass? Yes, but I know you'll get it together, eventually.”

 

“I'll miss you. You're an incredible and thoughtful woman, Gamora.”

 

“I know. Bye James.”

 

It was simple. It was quick.

 

So why was he throwing up in the nearest bush when he shoved his Razr phone back in his jacket pocket?

 

***

 

A week after the spring-break-up, as Bucky was calling it,  Steve still hadn't brought the book to Bucky. Hell, Steve hadn't even returned Bucky's calls or texts. Natasha was the one to tell Bucky that Steve's mom had had a stroke. He sent an unanswered text of well wishes.

 

Bucky resumed his hardcore studying in the library without any of his friends: The end of the semester was less than two months away.

 

The study room was used but never by anyone at the same time. Natasha had found an alcove on the fourth floor near the classical music transcripts and squirreled herself up there. Sam had lacrosse practice and studied on the bench when drills weren't being run and Steve was still in New York.

 

Bucky used the study room by himself most nights. He was use to the din of Natasha or Steve clacking the keys on their laptops or Sam shuffling through books and murmuring to himself. Even when he was home, whenever he studied his sisters were always playing in the background and his mom would be making her way through the kitchen. He liked noise when he studied, it kept him grounded. The silence in the study room was deafening. He needed to find some sort of obnoxious sound to write the outline to the final Brit Lit paper.

 

Thirty minutes later he found himself sitting on the bleachers of the women’s soccer practice field.

 

While the ladies destroyed each other on the field, (they were District Champions, after all.  _Go hard or go harder_ was their motto), Bucky finished his paper and submitted it online.

 

With a half-hearted fist pump, he closed his laptop and stored in his bag, but before he could get away a voice called out to him.

 

He turned around to see Peggy in her filthy practice uniform, gym bag slung over her shoulders. He had only been in her presence once, the first time Natasha had introduced Steve to him in his dorm room, but seeing her without Steve, (in real life or in pictures) really struck something deep in his core. He could feel his body getting hotter with every step she took towards him. If he had known she was on the soccer team, he would have never come here.

 

“Bucky, yeah?” she asked, plopping down on the bench Bucky had just vacated, taking off her cleats and throwing them in front of her, stretching out her toes, “Have you heard from Steve?”

 

It sounded like she was being kind-natured, but Bucky  _felt_ that she was testing him about his friendship with Steve.

 

“Yeah,” he lied, “He sent me a smiley face.”

 

She dropped her feet back to the ground, looking up at him in the harsh glow of the field lights, “He did?”

 

“Mmm,” was all he let out, slinging his backpack on both shoulders, “I gotta go before I miss dinner.”

 

He tried taking a few steps before she called after him, “Wait!”

 

He turned back to her, “Just be careful with him, okay?”

 

He didn’t understand what she meant or what she was trying to get at, “What’s that supposed to mean?”

 

She looked at him for a second, confused, before regaining her senses,“Oh, then, nevermind. Goodnight.”

 

He turned from her again and walked off the field vowing to never watch soccer again.

 

**SUMMER 2009: BE MY ROOMMATE**

 

Bucky, Sam and Steve had all decided to not go back to their respective homes for summer break and split the cost of a two bedroom apartment on the outskirts of downtown.

 

Luckily, their shitty collegetown had many part-time summer jobs available and the boys found themselves employed and making ‘sweet, sweet money,’ as Sam so adequately phrased it.

 

Steve, being the team player that he was, agreed to take the living room as his room since he had gigs to house sit and wouldn't be home as much. Sam and Bucky each took a small room for themselves and used Steve's room/living room as their video game marathon room when they weren’t working and when Steve was house sitting.

 

Sometimes, Steve brought over the dogs he was taking care of for Sam and Bucky to play with as therapy.

 

“Snugglin’ a dog does wonders for the psyche, yeah?” Steve had joked one night when he brought someone's beagle back to their apartment.

 

The beagle was named Bagel and loved following Steve everywhere and Steve let him. Bucky envied the dog.

 

The summer flew by. Things were going smoothly for the boys: Sam was dating Wanda and working at the local brewery; Steve kept bringing home other people’s dogs and sometimes a cat; Bucky and Sam’s friendly video game competition was giving them, ‘a reason to wake up in the morning.’ Things were going well for the three young men. Money was coming in and Bucky had a savings account. The three of them even thought of living there during the next school year. Or possibly moving to a better apartment closer to campus: they hadn’t decided yet.

  
  


After a particularly long and grueling shift at the pizza joint, Bucky decided to take a fitful nap on Steve's futon; he didn't want to waste his time and energy walking to his shoe-box-sized room, taking off his greasy uniform and napping only a few hours before he had to be ready for his shift at the cineplex

 

He woke up feeling like shit, however, more so than usual, but the smell of Steve's musk on the pillows invoked a thought to the forefront of his mind:

 

_I love Steve Rogers._

 

He tried to quickly mend his errant thought,  _no, I love the smell of Steve Rogers._

 

That didn’t help his case. He hit the pillow with his free arm. “No,” he muttered to himself. “You don't.”

 

He thought about how Steve’s smile made butterflies flutter in his stomach. How the smell of Steve’s cologne gave him a sense of comfort. Whenever Steve was near, he felt a sense of security. If Steve ever ventured from his life, he wouldn’t know what to do. Melodramatic, but true. When they were hanging out with other people, he often thought of how could he draw Steve's attention from everyone else and solely on him. Steve was the life of the party, always talking to everyone; always listening to everything; joining in on every game of beer pong. For Bucky to capitalize on his attention in a group setting was a hard feat. But he did it. He clung to that blond man like his life depended on it.

 

_Oh shit!_

 

And when they were alone, just Steve and Bucky, playing video games, or watching a movie, or making pizza or pho, Steve was always so attentive to him. Did Steve realize Bucky was his attention-starved little shadow and try to make it up to him so that Bucky would stop clinging to him when they were at parties and gatherings? Was he pitying Bucky because Bucky only socialized with Steve, Sam, Wanda, Natasha, and sometimes Scott?

 

 _Damn, maybe I do like him??_ Bucky pounded his fist in the pillow again.

 

Was his stupid-ass really in love with  ** _a man?!_** Could he really be in love with a straight man who pitied him above all else? A straight man who dated the University’s ruthless soccer captain and had time to, basically, baby-sit his pathetic dumbass? Steve wouldn’t pity him….would he? Steve was kind and caring and friendly. He was attentive to his friends needs and wants! Steve listened and was thoughtful to everyone! Steve could piece together things that completely skipped Bucky’s oblivious state-of-mind.--

 

**Oh shit! Shit! Shit!! Steve could** **_see_ ** **Bucky’s crush on him before he knew it himself?**

 

Gamora was right. He  **is**  gay. Gay for Steven Rogers.

 

Natasha watched him, what was the word,  _pine,_ pine for him from afar and introduced them so the pining would be up-close and personal!

 

They all knew before Bucky knew himself. Was he that obvious? Steve probably knows, too. And who the fuck else pieced it together before he did?

 

Peggy.

 

Peggy had warned him, “Be careful with him.” She knew he had no chance with Steve. She warned him not to try it. His face felt hot and sweaty. He was mad that she got to be with him and he didn’t. Now he understood the feeling he felt when Peggy was ever mentioned was jealousy: jealous of their intimate relationship. Jealous of their  _mutual love!!_

 

He laid there for a few moments, mind working overtime:  _Fuck! I am in love with Steve Rogers!_

 

The realization hit him  _hard._ He sat up too quickly; little lights were flashing in front of his eyes, his head felt like air, a hollow feeling in his chest took hold of him. He crashed back down on Steve's unwashed sheets.

 

“Fuck, fuck, fuckaroo,” his heart was racing, the lights were multiplying swiftly, “Fuck, no---How?”

 

It all became too much for him: He passed out.

 

When he awoke three hours later, face buried deep in Steve’s pillow, nothing mattered to him anymore. Not the missed shift at the theater, not sophomore year, not the rent due in two weeks. Nothing mattered to him except the fact that he was in love with Steve Rogers and needed to keep it a secret. How could he, a man, love another man? What would his mother say?

 

Did he even care what his mother thought? Yes, of course he did. He couldn’t disappoint his immigrant mother who sacrificed everything for him and his sisters, now could he?!

 

Preoccupied with his existential/gay crisis, he didn’t notice the other man sitting on the edge of the futon.

 

“Hey,” he spoke softly, “You okay?”

 

Scared shitless, Bucky pulled himself up from the pillows and close to the edge of the futon. “What the fuck?” he yelled back.

 

The room was dark, only the neon clock above the TV lit up the room, but it was enough to see the outline of Steve’s face, (And his perfectly straight nose), he pulled the sheets closer around him. He was on Steve’s bed, (where he shouldn’t be), wrapped in Steve’s sheets, (probably the first and last time that will happen), with Steve giving him a curious look.

 

“Sorry, didn't mean to startle you; you were thrashing around and I didn't wanna frighten you anymore but that obviously didn't happen.” Steve let out a forced laugh, “You okay?”

 

Bucky tried to form a proper sentence but all that came out of his mouth was a whine.

 

“So, I guess not,” was all Steve said before he told Bucky to scoot over so he could lay down beside him, which Bucky willingly obliged. “If anything is bothering you, Buck, you can tell me. We are friends, after all.”

 

Steve laid down beside Bucky, stiff as a board. The glow of the neon clock outlined Steve's perfect-for-a-white-boy profile that Bucky wished he could outline permanently into his brain. Steve was so pretty. And kind. And straight. And too close on the small futon.

 

Bucky moved closer to the wall, releasing a crocheted blanket from the tangled mess around his body and tossing it on Steve. “I'm fine, my friend.”

 

Steve gave a nondescript grunt and wished Bucky a more restful sleep.

 

Bucky watched as Steve fell fast asleep on the edge of the futon. The outline of his face soft and peaceful.

 

Bucky didn’t go back to sleep, he slipped off the futon and went to his room to cry.

  
  
  
  
  


**SOPHOMORE YEAR, FALL 2009: JOHNNY BOY AT THE PARTY**

 

Bucky made his way through the frat house drunker than a sailor on shore leave. “Have you seen my friend? Big guy! Blond! Handsome! Looks like Gramma’s homemade apple pie on a Sunday after church?” He asked anyone that would look in his direction. “I just wanna find my friend,” he mumbled into his full Solo cup of vodka and Coke.

 

Lost in the crowd and lost in his thoughts, Bucky chugged the full contents of his drink and purposely dropped the cup on the floor where every other unwanted thing was accumulating. He stumbled his way through the crowd to the backyard of the ugly brick frat house. He knew coming to a frat party was a bad idea; but he came with Steve and that’s all he wanted. He just wanted to be with Steve: to do something social with Steve. Instead of staring at him from across their small apartment wistfully.

 

Steve.  _Steve._ Steve. Steve Rogers. Glorious Steve Rogers. I’m gay for the All-American Boy. Call the cops.  _Wee-oh-wee-oh---_ **Oh!**

 

“Hey, pretty boy, watch where you're going!” A voice in front of him rang out.

 

In his tipsy daze, he ran right into someone. Bucky refocused himself and looked at the other man, he looked just like Steve: If Steve had a shaved head and no stubble.

 

Bucky's breath hitched, “Suh-Steve?” He place his hand on the strange man's face.

 

The Steve look-alike chuckled, making no move to remove Bucky's hand, “Nah, but I can be if you'd like.”

 

“I'd like,” he laughed, pressing his face into the stranger's chest with zero regard to the other man's boundaries.

 

“I'm Johnny, by the way,” he put his hand on Bucky's back, “Do you wanna sit under that tree with me?” he pointed to a large oak that looked older than their New England college.

 

“I'd like,” he repeated.

 

Johnny took Bucky's hand off his face and carefully intertwined their fingers, leading Bucky along to the tree covered in fairy lights.

 

The backyard was fairly empty, save for a few make out kids minding their own business with their tongues down each others throats. Johnny led him to a bench under the old tree and sat him down.

 

In his extremely tipsy state, Bucky leaned into Johnny again and started giggling. He knew why Johnny led him back here and he knew what his intentions were. He wasn’t stupid.

 

Actually, Bucky  _was_ stupid. Stupid in love!

 

He let out another giggle into Johnny’s chest.

 

“You wanna tell me what’s so funny, pretty boy?” Johnny asked, stroking Bucky’s long hair.

 

Bucky lifted his head from Johnny’s chest, looking into the other man’s eyes. “Nothing, nothin’. I was just thinking of how suh-suh-stupid I am!”

 

“Ah, you’re not stupid.” Johnny hesitated, “Are you?”

 

“No, just gay, apparently!” Bucky let out a fit of laughter. He nearly fell off the bench, but Johnny had a strong grip and stabilized him.

 

“Listen, pal, we have that in common. So let’s get you some water and talk about our options here, yeah?”

 

“Yeah,” Bucky repeated, “Yeah, let’s get water.”

 

Again, Johnny led Bucky through the yard, through the frat house and into the, oddly empty, kitchen. He guided Bucky to sit on the counter top as he fetched a glass from the cabinet and filled it with water from the tap.

 

“So, pretty boy, what’s your name?” He handed the glass to Bucky, who chugged it before answering.

“My name is James but everyone calls me Bucky.” He handed the glass back to Johnny.

 

“That’s a strange nickname to get outta James, dude.” Johnny refilled the glass, “Is it cuz you look like a deer, or shall I say, a buck in headlights?”

 

Bucky had never been compared to fauna before, he let out an obnoxiously loud drunk laugh! “NO! But that’s cute! Cutecutecute!” He took a swig from the glass, “So, Johnny-Bo-Bawnny, whaddya wanna do?” His voice was full of mischievous inflection.

 

He handed the nearly full glass back to Johnny, who took a long swig, eyeing Bucky the whole time.

“Well, I was gonna ask you to make out but you are way too drunk for that!”

 

“Ah, c’mon! Never drunk enough to make out!” Bucky giggled, leaning towards Johnny.

 

Johnny snorted, “Listen, you are not sober enough to be making wise decisions and I am not a predator. So, we are not making out right now, bro.”

 

“What are you? The fun police?” Bucky asked like an insolent child.

 

“No, I’m the Safety Police.” he said firmly. “I keep sober and make sure everyone has a safe  _and_ fun time. I call rides for people too drunk to drive. Or have them sleep on one of our many sofas for the night. I help cute people stumbling around the backyard with too much alcohol running through their system try and sober up so I can I ask them out when they are sober.”

 

Bucky didn’t complete process what Johnny was saying for a few seconds due to the rampant alcohol coursing through his system. But when he finally did, all he could mutter was, “Oh...cool.”

 

Johnny rolled his eyes and handed the nearly empty glass back to Bucky, “Drink, dude. Then we can discuss your options.”

 

Bucky obliged and finished the water.

 

“Do you have any bread or something?” he asked, sheepishly.

 

“I dunno, but I have Toaster Strudels” Johnny turned and went to the industrial stainless steel freezer and pulled out three boxes, “I have apple cinnamon, blueberry, and strawberry.”

Bucky weighed his options, but being as drunk as he was, it was hard. “Uhh, can I have the blueberry, please.”

 

Johnny nodded and threw the blueberry strudel box on the counter next to Bucky and put the others back in the freezer.

 

Bucky took the box and hopped off the counter towards the toaster. The box was unopened and he had a hard time with it.

 

“Here, you fool, let me get that.” Johnny took the box from him and effortlessly opened it, taking the pastries from the bag and placing them in the toaster.

 

Bucky was starting to feel less happy-drunk and more sad-sober the longer he stood between Johnny and the toaster.

 

“So, you said something about asking me out?” he quietly pressed.

 

“Yeah, y’know, you and me goin’ out, having dinner or a movie or--”

 

“Or cocoa?” Bucky suggested.

 

Johnny gave him a smile, “Yeah, cocoa. Is that what you’re into?”

 

Bucky nodded solemnly.

 

“Cool, I know a great place downtown-”

 

“Oooh, not there,” he let out harshly. Bucky knew that place damn well, “I mean, I like that place, but I have, umm, history with the barista.”

 

Johnny gave him a soft smile, “Okay, bro, I understand.”

 

Bucky reached out and stroked Johnny’s face again. His mind was blank, thinking only of how pretty Johnny was. He started to lean closer to him, closer, closer. Johnny understood and leaned closer, too. Just when their lips were about to meet, the fucking toaster popped off scaring both of them away from each other’s lips.

At the end of the night, more like morning, Bucky slept in Johnny’s bed as Johnny took to the floor. When they both woke up sober and smiling, Johnny officially asked Bucky out.

 

“Duh, dude,” was all Bucky said before Johnny had crawled into bed beside him to hug him and give him chaste kisses.

 

Their relationship moved slowly. Johnny may have been a fraternity bro, but he was a thoughtful and patient dude. Bucky had told him his hang-ups with his sexuality and the lack of understanding of it all. Johnny let him borrow some books about sexuality and helped him understand himself.

 

It was too kind and thoughtful of Johnny and Bucky felt guilty. Bucky felt like he was using Johnny on a path to self-discovery but Johnny assured him that helping Bucky was not a burden. But Bucky couldn’t shake the guilt.

 

Little did he know, that’s not where the guilt stemmed from.

 

Six weeks into their relationship, Bucky decided it was Time. It was time to have sex with this man that treated him kindly and unconditionally.

 

It was sweet, messy, fun and for once, Bucky didn’t cry about it afterwards.

 

He didn’t know who to tell. He didn’t think Natasha or Sam or Scott would understand. Or, most importantly, not tell Steve. He especially couldn’t tell Natasha. She was the second person to accurately guess his gay crush on Steve. He thought about the first person who asked him about his gayness: Gamora. Maybe she would listen. But it wasn’t a woman’s place to be his emotional baggage handler. She was her own woman with her own problems and he had no right to unload on her. But the thought of her absence from his life, the joy and fun she brought into his world, made him sad. Missing her as a friend made him send her a text.

 

_Miss Rocket but miss your friendship more <3_

 

Much to his surprise, she sent back a message minutes later,  _Miss you too! Come by for cocoa! We should catch up <3_

 

And he did come by her coffeeshop for cocoa. And he did catch up with her. But he let her do all the talking. And just like that, Gamora was his friend again. He didn’t know why she would let him back in her life, but he was happy she did.

  
  


**WINTER 2009/10: FALLOUTS OF LOVE**

Steve was avoiding him. For the last few weeks, Steve had barely said a word to Bucky. He didn’t ask him to play video games or make food with him when they were in their apartment together. Steve didn’t even ask Bucky if he wanted to attend a party with him like he usually did. Bucky would have taken the cold-shoulder more seriously if he didn’t have Johnny in his life.

Bucky finally understood himself: He knew now that he really is gay. He liked men. He really liked being with men.  He understood what his hang-ups with Gamora were now. He knew that he needed to open up and understand that being gay was okay! Having sex with men was okay!

And yet, it didn’t feel as right as it should.

Something was off. Something more than he could articulate clearly. Or ever.

Sure, Steve was his Gay Awakening, but Steve was straight and could never be in love with another man. So, when Steve caught Bucky and Johnny together in mid-sexual bliss, gave them a look of utter shock and disgust and slammed Bucky’s bedroom door. Bucky was fucking devastated.

Bucky removed himself from Johnny, put on random clothes and threw his bedroom door open to chase after Steve down the hallway of their new apartment.

“Steve! Wait!” But he was too late, Steve had opened the front door, gave Bucky one more look he couldn’t decipher and left, slamming the door behind him.

Bucky stood there for a minute, absolutely shocked and horrified that he was caught with another man.

But I shouldn’t be shocked and horrified, he thought to himself.

Johnny came up behind him, placed his hand on Bucky’s shoulder, and said firmly, “That’s him, huh?”

Bucky was caught off guard. “What?” He turned to face Johnny.

Unlike Steve’s, Johnny’s face could be read clearly: He looked fucking morose. He squeezed Bucky’s shoulder, “Listen, man, I like you a lot, but I feel like you like him more than you’ll ever like me.”

“What?” Bucky asked again, he understood what Johnny meant, but he didn’t want to own up to it. “What do you mean?”

A tear was slipping down Johnny’s face, “That’s Steve Rogers. I know him from around campus. I get confused for him all the time.  _You_ confused me for him when we first met and I distinctly remember saying, ‘I can be if you want me to be.’ And I played along. I thought you were cute, and I wanted to kiss you, so I just went with it, man.  But I’ve known. I know damn well that’s who you like, Bucky.”

The tears were rolling down Johnny’s pretty, blotchy face. Bucky tried to hug him, but Johnny kept his hand firmly placed on his shoulder keeping him at arm's length, “I shoulda known, dude, I shoulda known that you wanted him not me. But I’m a fool.”

“Dude, no!” Bucky started but Johnny cut him off again.

“I’m gonna need my pants, man.” He lifted his hand and pointed to the over-sized pants Bucky had slipped on in haste.

Bucky took them off with no regard and handed them over to Johnny. “I’m sorry.” he said softly. The apology wasn't for taking the pants, but neither of them said anything on it.

Johnny took the pants and made his way back to Bucky’s room as Bucky stood naked in the hallway of his apartment forcing the tears to stay in his eyes. Johnny came out a few minutes later, fully dressed. He had wiped the tears away and walked up to Bucky.

“Please, and I mean this in the most kindest way possible, understand who you are and what you want, dude.” And with that, he leaned down and gave Bucky a final chaste kiss on the cheek. “Bye, dude. See you around.”

Bucky couldn’t move his naked, sticky body from the hallway. Two men he truly liked-or loved-or whatever, had just walked out of his apartment. One permanently and the other would be back, begrudgingly, but he paid rent, so he was obligated to stay.

Wasn’t he? Would Steve be back? Or was Steve homophobic and didn’t want anything to do with Bucky anymore!?

No, oh no! He was! Steve was homophobic! That explains the dirty look! The quick exit! Steve didn’t wanna be around his sexually devious roommate!

Bucky hit the floor crying. Everything came out all at once. He laid there for an unfathomable amount of time, crying, sobbing, he wailed, and he hit the floor with his fists. He hit the walls, repeatedly and hard. Anything to take away the pain in his chest away. His knuckles began to ache, to turn red and raw. He put a hole in the wall at some point, so he began to hit another part of the wall until another hole had formed. All he could feel was the throbbing pain in his hands, the hollow feeling in his chest was smothered down. The empty feelings took over and he felt nothing. All he could feel was disgust with himself.

Somehow, he had crawled his way into the scalding shower where he washed away all remains of Johnny from his body. He sat in the tub, water washing over him until the water ran cold. And when he finally couldn’t take the shivering any longer, he crawled out of the tub, dried off, packed a bag, left a note for Steve, and left the apartment forever.

**  
  
**

_Steve,_

_I’m sorry I’m dirty. I’m sorry you had to see that. I’ll send a check for the remainder of my rent._

_Bucky_

**  
  
**

All said and done, Bucky slung his duffel bag over his shoulder, cracked his Razr in half and threw it in the garbage on his way to the Greyhound Station.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> forgive me for being a shitty friend, pls???


End file.
